The Cooking Club
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Oliver has a problem. He is in love with the student council president, Arthur Kirkland. But his problems are only just beginning as the president decides to close down his precious cooking club for reasons unknown...
1. The Problem

**_This is going to be an _**_**extended edition of a brief story I made for one of my Micro fan fic memes. It's 1P! and 2P!Iggy and it's a Gakuen AU.****  
**_

_**This is really just a prologue to the main events - with a little bit of foreshadowing. (Though, if you've read the bit I've already mentioned, that'll tell you what's going to happen. **_

_**Also, about the 2P!Iggy. He's not going to go around with knives or poison anyone since I don't see the 2P!s like that, really.**_

* * *

Oliver had a problem. It wasn't really a problem, to be honest. He was quite happy about it, really. However, he was also nervous and scared and he couldn't help being unable to breathe when the not-problem turned up.

You see, Oliver was in love.

And, at high school, this wasn't the sort of thing you could discuss with others. Especially with the people in his school. He supposed that Francis or Kiku would be good confidantes. Then again, the chances of other people overhearing were high. If he was to ask their advice, he would have to ask them to meet and some people at the World Academy were hopeless gossips.

What was worse, however, was who was in love with. He wasn't in love with just any student in the school. He was in love with the Student Council President, Arthur Kirkland. The moody, unapproachable gentleman whom Francis would surely warn him away from and Kiku would show his doubts.

He had contented himself by watching the fellow Brit from afar. Of course, he couldn't hold back his feelings and so he had become a bit of a poet over the last year. Of course, he hadn't let anyone else see them – he had decided that they would be for his eyes only.

Actually, there was a slight problem with Oliver's crush. Arthur didn't seem to notice him. Oliver would greet him, offer him cupcakes, happily defend him when others picked on him for his harshness. Arthur only responded with a brief greeting or a thank you or decline his offers.

To gain his attention, though, Oliver had come up with a plan. He had decided to form a club. An Amateur Cooking Club. It was designed to help those with little-to-no cooking skills learn how to cook simple dishes. A lot of the time, though, Oliver used the time to bake more cupcakes. He would shape the icing into lovely designs, all the time thinking of Arthur and if he would like them. Of course, a lot of the time, Arthur never saw them. But others did and they praised them heartily – or told him they were rubbish and ate them, anyway. But that was just Jacques' and Melvin's personalities.

Today, though, Oliver had decided to change tactics and try to go on the offensive. He had gotten up extra early. He had made fresh cupcakes. He had gotten to school incredibly early.

He had decided to wait for Arthur to arrive.

So he was rather surprised to see the man arriving at much the same time as him. The green eyes glanced at him and a thick eyebrow was raised. "You're early, are you not?" he asked in those incredibly musical tones (or, rather, it was like music to Oliver's ears).

"Well, yes, my dear," replied Oliver enthusiastically, in his usual way. "I thought, since you have been working quite hard recently, you could do with some cheering up!" He smiled at Arthur, gesturing with the bag full of carefully placed cupcakes.

Those emerald eyes flickered to the box and a slight tinge came to his cheeks. "Th-Thank you. But I've already eaten this morning."

"Ah," said Oliver, a little disappointed. He didn't try to hide it but he glanced up again, suddenly excited as a thought had occurred to him. "Why don't I leave it on your desk for you to eat later?!" He beamed at him, his blue eyes, for once, staring straight into those beautiful green ones.

"Ah, well, yes, fine," said Arthur, seeming a little flustered. Then the president glanced past him towards the approach of another student. Oliver turned to see the tall blonde figure yawning as he stepped through the gates.

"Bonjour, mes chers!" exclaimed Francis, rubbing at his tired blue eyes. He glanced at Arthur. "See? I am here early like I said I would!" He pouted, probably at the memory of Arthur's glaring and ranting the day before. "It will be Teresa who will not be here on time! You know she is such a sleepyhead, oui?"

"Well, if she doesn't show, you can work twice as hard, can't you?" was the reply.

"Um," said Oliver, unsure as to whether to leave them be or wait with them for the other council members.

Francis glanced towards him at the noise he made. "Ah, bonjour, Oliver. You are here early, non?"

"Ah, well, yes," said Oliver, a little flustered. He glanced at Arthur who was watching the gate, waiting for a sighting of the Seychellian. He seemed to be so intent on the task that Oliver decided to speak to Francis, hoping Arthur would join in. "I-I thought that certain people who have been working hard should have something to cheer them up." He held up the brown paper bag.

"Oh?" said Francis, glancing at Arthur with an amused expression on his face. Perhaps he had already had suspicions. Perhaps he spotted Oliver's slight blush. Either way, he seemed to know what Oliver meant. "Sourcils here has been working hard – are you going to have some?"

Arthur, whom the last question had been directed, flashed an irritated glance in Francis' direction. "I thought I told you to stop calling me by your stupid French nicknames, Frog."

Francis frowned and Oliver sensed that the atmosphere was growing sour. "N-Now, don't argue!" he exclaimed. He smiled happily at them both as they glanced at him. "There's plenty for all of the council members! Shall I go drop them off in the student council room?"

Arthur looked at him again, those beautiful eyes boring into Oliver's. "Please," he said with a curt nod. He turned back to look at the gate and gave a happy exclamation. "Ah! It looks like Teresa has made it…"

Both Oliver and Francis turned to look and watched the young, tanned girl walking along. She seemed to be drooping as her dark hair with its red ribbons fell forward of her shoulders. She stopped as she reached them and yawned. "Morning," she muttered.

"Cupcake?" Oliver offered.

Teresa seemed to brighten a little and she held out her hand. Oliver carefully opened the bag and, equally carefully, lifted a pink cupcake out of it. He handed it to her and she started to nibble at it, almost as though she didn't have enough energy for eating properly.

"Well, if you'd like, you can go to the council room and leave them there," said Arthur. Oliver glanced up to find him watching the lighter-haired Brit. Flustered, Oliver nodded. "We still have to wait for a few more people, Arthur informed the other two. Teresa nodded and Francis smiled at Oliver who hurriedly turned towards the school building.

"Why, yes, of course, dear!" exclaimed Oliver heartily. "I'll put them on your desk, Artie!" And with that, he hurried inside.

* * *

Later that day, as the students were filing out of the classrooms to go home or to their clubs, Francis tapped Arthur's desk to gain his attention. The Englishman finished what he was reading, setting it down before he raised his eyes to gaze blankly at the Frenchman.

"What is it? I'm busy," said Arthur, his tone sharp and harsh.

"Ah, cher, you wound me so," replied Francis, pretending to clutch at a wound to his heart.

"Yes, yes," said Arthur, waiting for him to continue.

"Everyone is leaving, cher. Are you still working?"

"That's why I said that I'm busy."

"Well, I shall leave you to it." Francis surveyed the desk. "Where are the cupcakes that Oliver gave you?"

Arthur flapped a hand at Francis, trying to make him leave faster. "Alfred came in, complaining about being hungry, so I gave them to him. He scoffed the lot. Now, will you leave?"

Francis frowned at the boy behind the desk. His uniform was still immaculate, as usual. His expression was stern. How anyone could fall in love with that personality was beyond Francis. Though… He supposed that, when he was embarrassed and flustered, it _was_ rather cute.

The Frenchman then glanced at the desk to ascertain how much work he had left to do. The pile of papers which never seemed to decrease were still neatly piled on the desk. He glanced down at the paper Arthur had just finished reading and read it himself, upside down. Alarmed at what he saw, he snatched it up, turning it right way up for a better look. "Q-Quoi? P-Pourquoi?"

"It's a monetary matter, Francis. Don't worry yourself."

* * *

_**For clarification: Jaques = 2P!France, Melvin = 2P!Canada  
**_

_**I picked the name Teresa for Seychelles from a list of popular girl's names in Seychelles.**_

_**I hoped you like it and it'll definitely get more interesting. I have the feeling my writing style is a little different from usual and I'm not entirely sure why...**_


	2. The Club

_**So. This took a while. I keep getting distracted with different projects and stuff. Someone (a guest) gave me a lovely review and thanks to you for that. And sorry it took so long. Also, I think I'm getting the 2P!s characterisations wrong.**_

* * *

Oliver happily waited on his members to get to the room. They used the Home Economics classroom so they could use the ovens and stoves. The ingredients he brought with him, using his own money today – the club had used most of the money granted to them. He had very little members but at least they were loyal. Walking through the room, he laid out ingredients for a Black Forest Gateau. Once he had returned to the board, he began to write out the recipe.

As he was finishing up, a couple of people entered the room. He smiled at them and the blondes looked back at him blankly. The cigarette attracted a frown from Oliver. "I really wish you would stop bringing them in here, Jacques, dear," he told the Frenchman. The man shrugged and leaned against a unit, taking a final drag before stubbing it out in a nearby sink. "And you should take your sunglasses off, Melvin. That can't be very good for your eyes." Grumbling, the Canadian obliged. The entrance of another member distracted Oliver and, when he noticed Melvin wearing them later, he didn't try to repeat his request.

"Hello, Jack- Alfred! You came along this time?" He smiled at the two Americans. Jack rolled his eyes and moved off to stand beside Melvin.

"Yeah, Jack said I could get cake so I came along," The blonde grinned and glanced at the board. "But I need to make it, though, huh? Black Forest...?" The American glanced worriedly at Oliver. "That's not like Artie's scones, is it?"

With a shake of his head and a slight laugh, Oliver explained. "No, it's a type of cake. It comes from Germany and I thought it would be a good idea to make things from around the world. To attract more members..."

"Oh?" Alfred glanced around the room. "Isn't there more people?"

"Ah, no, this is it," said Oliver cheerfully. He had started up the club for personal reasons so didn't mind the lack of interest. Alas, it wasn't working too well and Oliver had been a little disappointed. However, he had forged ahead and now had three regular members. Hope for the expansion of the club had kindled within him and he was beginning to enjoy it.

"So what do we do?" asked Alfred, bringing Oliver out of his musings.

"Well, since we have enough people, why don't you pair up like you would do in class?" Thus ensued a few minutes of arguing while Jack and Melvin debated who should be paired with Alfred. Melvin won and Jack slouched over to where Alfred was waiting, a bemused expression on his face. "Now, just do as I do. Though, if you'd like to, the recipe is on the board so you can move ahead at your leisure." The Englishman picked up a bowl within which he had already placed butter and sugar and began to whisk it.

Almost immediately, something went wrong. Alfred had insisted on doing the whisking and, while Jack looked on with an irritated expression, the blonde was getting butter and sugar everywhere with the force he was using. Oliver hurried over in time to get a large dollop of butter in the face.

"Oh, sorry!" said Alfred with a laugh.

"You, er, seem to be having some problems, honey. Are you okay?" Oliver responded as he wiped the butter off on a nearby towel.

"Yeah," said Alfred. "Don't worry about me!" He grinned at the club's president and Oliver looked back at him with a worried expression.

"If you're sure..." he said, hesitantly and returned to the front desk, finishing off his whisking. He expertly cracked some eggs with one hand and began to beat them in. This time, his attention was attracted by the lack of effort Melvin and Jacques were putting into their cake. In fact, they hadn't even bothered to pick up their whisks. Instead they were holding unlit cigarettes, frowning at the board. Oliver hurried over. "What's wrong?" he asked them.

"Tch," said Jacques. "I do not see why we cannot make something French."

"And I don't understand why I'm still coming to this club," muttered Melvin. "I want to go home and sleep."

"Oh, come along, Melvin! There will be a cake at the end of your hard work. And, Jacques, we will make something French next week. Would profiteroles be good enough for you, dear?"

Jacques pulled a face, looking annoyed and yet placated at the same time. Oliver smiled and looked at Melvin. He still seemed rather grumpy but he begrudgingly took up the bowl and whisk and set to work. Relieved, Oliver went back to the front and finished beating in the eggs.

Then, since Alfred and Jack were having trouble folding in the flour and cocoa powder, Oliver showed them all how it was done. Soon, smiles spread around the room, even if they were only slight. Jack was hard pressed not to at least smile at Alfred's antics which covered their area in ingredients. Oliver, meanwhile, kept encouraging the other pair, Jacques and Melvin soon smiling ever so slightly at his well-earned praise.

Oliver was pleased. Even if he had been trying to catch Arthur's attention, it was definitely better to have fun with everyone. He knew that his ulterior motives meant that it wasn't a popular club but now he was determined to put more effort than he had been to make it much more magnificent.

* * *

_In the darkness of this cave_

_Two jewels wink at me;_

_I am transfixed._

_To stare is to lose them_

_And I must turn away._

_But to turn away – is that to _

_Lose them, too?_

_How can I keep them?_

_Is it possible to take them _

_For my own?_

_Now, what can I write next...?_ thought Oliver, his pen to his mouth. He placed the tip back to the paper and began to write the next line.

"Oliver!" exclaimed the teacher. The Brit gasped and jerked, his hand scoring across his work in progress. He glanced at it miserably for a moment before looking up at the teacher guiltily. "Pay attention!"

"Sorry..." he mumbled. He shrank down a little as the class gazed at him. Once they had ascertained that nothing interesting was happening, they turned away. All bar one.

When the teacher's attention was diverted, Arthur leaned over to take a look. Oliver froze and stared at the board, trying to remember to breathe. His heart began to beat faster and he swallowed, daring to glance sideways. Arthur was frowning slightly at the words written there and Oliver prayed that he wouldn't work out what they meant...

"Hm," whispered Arthur. "Are the jewels supposed to be someone or a feature on some- Oh, eyes?"

"Ah! Uh! Yes!" squeaked Oliver. The teacher glanced over and Arthur pretended to correct something on Oliver's page. Lowering his voice, Oliver continued. "I can't believe you figured that out from this!"

"Well, it's pretty good, considering it's not finished," Arthur replied.

Feeling his face heat up, Oliver shook his head. "It-It's not that good... But thank you, anyway." He smiled shyly at the other Brit. Arthur's mouth twitched in a small smile before returning to his own work.

* * *

After the lesson, Arthur stopped him. "Oliver," he said, making the blue-eyed man's breath catch in his throat. "I must speak with you later about your club. It's very important so please come to my office after your classes."

"Oh, uh, really? Well, I'll definitely be there!" exclaimed Oliver, cheerily.

"I will see you later, then," said Arthur as he walked off. Oliver waved him off with a smile. He wandered off to the next class, wondering what Arthur could possibly need to talk to him about. Was it their budget? Was it about his ideas for getting more members? Was it about the bake sales he had talked to him about? Whatever it was, Oliver couldn't wait to see him and couldn't concentrate on anything for the rest of the day.

Finally the time came and Oliver parted with Jacques (who seemed to be rather relieved to be rid of the Brit) and he hurried off. He took a deep breath outside, calming himself. It wouldn't do to be talking about business only to choke up because he was hyperventilating. When he decided he had calmed himself enough, he pushed open the door and nervously entered the School Council President's office.

Arthur glanced up at Oliver and his heart skipped a beat. The other boy's bright green eyes were boring into him – he had never been looked at by him with such an intensity! In fact, he was pretty sure that Arthur ignored him as much as possible, usually. The interaction with the poem had been the longest one he could remember.

"Well, come in," said Arthur, beckoning the other forward. Oliver's heart started to hammer against his chest and he realised he was beginning to sweat. Trying to ignore this, he gulped and walked forward, a little shakily. "You can sit down," Arthur added once Oliver was standing beside a chair in front of the desk. Oliver immediately and obediently did so.

"Hi," he squeaked. He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "Well, er, what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked in a more normal voice.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," said Arthur calmly, leaning his elbows on the desk. Oliver barely registered what he had said as he watched him lace his fingers together. His emerald eyes gazed into his own blue ones and he blinked so he wasn't caught staring.

"W-What do you mean? Bad news? What's wrong?"

"Your club is over budget. Because of how much you owe the council for ingredients and the hire of the classroom, we're going to have to shut you down."

Oliver gaped at the Student Council President across the desk. "W-What?! But-! But the bake sales! I-I told you about that! We just need a place to do them – that's free – and we can make up the money!"

"No, I'm sorry. This is an executive decision. There is already a gourmet club. And there are too many clubs – we don't have enough money for all of them. Our resources are spread thin. We will give you money for one more meeting if needed but then you will have to disband."

"No! Please!" exclaimed Oliver, tears blurring his vision. "I don't want-! Please! The club could become so much more! It's great for people who can't coo- Who aren't as good at cooking as others!"

Arthur surveyed him blankly over his hands. "You can't change my mind, Oliver. Disband your club."

Tears began to trickle down his cheeks and Oliver shook his head. When he managed to blink some away, he could see Arthur biting his lip. He briefly wondered why the president was looking so unsure. "Please..." he whispered desperately.

The other man shook his head. "I'm sorry but the decision is final."

* * *

At the next meeting, Oliver waited till his members (minus Alfred) gathered to announce the disbanding of the club. He was surprised to see the Nordics had turned up – all ten of them – as well as Francis. He smiled at them kindly. "It's so good to see new members! But... I'm afraid that I have some bad news."

"Bad news?" asked Jack with a frown. He had probably noticed Oliver's saddened expression.

"We've used too much of the student council's money. We're going to have to disband..." Oliver sat on a stool and sighed. "It's such a shame – I had such high hopes for the club. Well! Let's just make this the best last meeting! I've picked out quite a few French cakes and-"

"What the hell?!" Jack blurted out and a murmur spread round the room. Oliver looked up at him in surprise. He, Melvin and Jacques all looked irritated and the Nordics seemed confused. "Didn't you use your own money most of the time?! And you poured your heart into this stupid club – why the fuck are you giving up so easily?!"

"Well, there's not much I can do, Jack, my dear. And it _is_ true that we spend more money than other clubs, even if I use my own personal savings as well." Oliver shrugged. "I can't change the council's decision." He glanced at Francis, wondering why a council member was present. Was he there to make sure he disbanded the club?

However, this theory was dashed when the Frenchman stepped forward, a serious expression on his face. "It was not the Council's decision, cher," he told Oliver.

"Hm?" asked Oliver, confused.

"It is true that the Council has the power to disband clubs which spend too much money but we generally leave them be. The only reason Arthur noticed your spending was... Well... He would have liked to have joined et I teased him about being unable to come to this. I am afraid that I made him quite angry – and he took it out on you. He is stubborn and will not correct his mistake."

"What kind of reason is that?!" snapped Melvin.

Jacques glared at Francis. "So this is your fault?"

"I would not say that exactly..." said Francis with a worried look, backing away from the advancing Jacques.

"So you're saying he would've found a reason to disband the club either way?" growled Jack, looking just as angry.

"Enough!" said Oliver. Everyone looked up at him. He looked rather upset, tears threatening to overflow. Jack sighed and made his way to the Brit, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "I don't understand..." Oliver muttered into Jack's shoulder. "Why would he want to get rid of this club?"

"Dunno," replied Jack, still sounding furious. "But you have to stop crying and do something about it!"

"I am not sure you can, chéri," said Francis, miserably. "He holds more power than he should. After all, he went over the Council's head to order the disbanding of the club..."

"That can't be right," said Melvin, glaring at no-one in particular.

"If the students knew what he was like, perhaps he would be stopped," suggested Jacques.

"How could we do that?" asked Jack as Oliver hugged him back miserably.

"I have already spoken with the Newspaper Club but they could not run the story without more evidence I cannot provide," explained Francis. "And I have protested his decision. Yet he-"

"'Protested'?" asked Oliver suddenly, pulling away from Jack as he gazed blearily at Francis. "Protested... Could we...? Is it allowed...? Francis, could we stage a protest?"

"A protest?"

"Oh, like picket lines and stuff?!" Jack piped up with a malicious grin.

"Exactly!" said Oliver. "Then the Newspaper Club would _have_ to run the story!"

"It is definitely not prohibited in any rules I have read..." said Francis with a grin.

"Let the war begin, then," said Melvin.

Oliver, however, was already beginning to have doubts. Would something like this ruin his chances with Arthur? Did he even have a chance? But he couldn't let anyone know about his crush – being mocked would be unbearable. So he would have to take this idea he had had and run with it, whether it angered the other Brit or not...

* * *

_**Arthur's excuse is really flimsy at best.  
**_

_**Francis may or may not know why Arthur's being a douche.  
**_

_**Uh, I think this story's set up kind of sucks but, hey.**_

_**Also, the poem is crappy. Sorry.**_

_**I think that is all?**_


End file.
